


eulogy on foggy mirrors

by heartratemonitor



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, i'm a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartratemonitor/pseuds/heartratemonitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They shared him like a favorite toy. Hans reflected everything, and revealed nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eulogy on foggy mirrors

His father drowned in a lethal cocktail of alcohol shortly after Hans was born. The senile, fumbling thing fucked a  terror-stricken kitchen help over the dining hall. Twelve recounted years later of the shattered plates at the edge of the table; stained with blood. One would come to stroke his hair and bury a warm smile in his naked lap by the time he was five, spilling light thank-yous that did not take long for him to understand.  
  
 _It was about time he croaked. All it took was the shame of owning a bastard child._  
  
He sat on Two’s lap while reading books at nine, unphased by a large hand that carressed as frequently as harmed. Right now the old man fiddled over the cloth of his pants. Hans witnessed a vengeful fairy cursing the wretched prince to ugliness, and managed a ghost of a frown. Bony fingers traced the paragraph; skeptical of its  lesson. He has read this countless times before. When the curse was broken, the Beast was a full grown man.  
  
A vicious entity ruined the life of little more than an ordinary, petulant child. Did she murder his parents? Why had the subjects carried on with their lives without noticing the absence of their king? Why did spirits always curse the young? He could list nine people who deserved more punishment than a misbehaving little boy. If fairies tortured the powerless, Hans had no reason to believe in them.  
  
Two grazed pearly teeth by the tendons of his neck. At least he never broke skin. Hans skipped through a bulk of pages to see the Beast dance with his captive, and could not find a hint of desire. The second queen could not dance at all and was a few months younger than Four. Their tongue spilled out garbled and broken from her mouth; father complimented her strange eyes and ink black hair, and was more than content with an exotic bird who could barely speak.  
  
Father was one such beast. Was Belle even a good dancer? Peasant girls could not learn such graces. Imagining her stumbling feet provided him a margin of comfort. At least he wasn’t entirely alone.  
  
"You never make noise when any of us do this," Two murmured against the bony curve of his spine. "You run your mouth about birds —— would teach you about and charm the horses as well as ——. You even learned painting in a day after —— taught you how."  
  
"How do these correlate?"  
  
Hans kept his voice small. Not that any reward, nor punishment, were of remote concern to him, but habit remained long after he discarded fear. Nails dug into yielding flesh under a partially unbuttoned shirt. His brother’s disappointment displayed itself clearer than freshly wiped glass. It took effort not to smile.  
  
"There’s nothing inside of you."  
  
"I’m sorry."  
  
He was never very good at telling the truth.  
  
In the evening hours after duties, he shared a bath with Twelve or Eleven, filled with water heated from the fireplace. Ten’s arms grew strong from the ritual. Eleven brushed his hair; Twelve kissed him with their mouths closed.  
  
"They stopped touching us after they had you. They must think that we’re growing up too ugly looking to pop a boner."  
  
Ten’s laugh did not belong in such a place. His embraces were that of a child prepared to drown.  
  
"I don’t think any of you are ugly at all. If you are, then I wish I was too. Maybe your mother would love me then."  
  
Somehow, when they held him, Hans never once thought that he deserved it.  
  
—  
  
"Did you really try to kill the Queen?"  
  
 _Don’t touch me, Twelve. Stop bawling, Eleven. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t._  
  
"I wouldn’t have survived a dangerous god. I wanted to die."  
  
He was never very good at maintaining composure when telling the truth.  
  
Elsa was a coddled child who ran from responsibility, managed to freeze a kingdom, and nearly kill her sister without getting an ounce of blame. What ugly, spoiled girls. Hans heard of the crystal structures now decorating her kingdom and entertained the thought of impaling himself onto them. Wouldn’t that be a nice parting gift?  
  
His two older brothers, shrouding him with forgiving arms, flushed any useless anger under his feet. There was no reason to keep it.  
  
Pretending that a person hid inside him, whether monster or saint, always proved fruitless.

 

* * *

  
  
"You were so naughty for trying to get away."  
  
One. Seven. Nine. Thank goodness his other siblings went off to marry dried husks for wives. He didn’t pity One’s queen; what a comfortable life, to be infantilized. But still, better him than someone defenseless. Better him than the former king’s widow, who spent her days blankly eyeing the sea. Hans had to at least be grateful for the birth of her sons.  
  
They always complimented how easily his skin bruised. Marrying Anna would have required thorough and creative excuses for all the scars. He didn’t bother to think that far ahead with the expectation of failure.  
  
 _If only there was someone out there who loved you._  
  
One’s fingers granted an equal dichotomy of gentleness and cruelty. He stroked a sweat-slicked forehead and wiped off Seven’s leftovers by the side of his mouth.  
  
"It used to bother me that you never reacted to any of this, Hans, but I’ve grown to appreciate it."  
  
Nine snickered in the background. “—— has no taste. I always thought that was the best part about you.”  
  
"You’ll never try to leave us again, correct?" Seven’s hands effortlessly engulfing his own nearly comforted him. "No one else loves you, and you were always smart enough to know that."  
  
They pried a nod from him without hesitation. One’s kisses were sewage compared to Twelve’s, but the return to an empty slate settled in delicately; a quiet comfort.  
  
"We love you so much."  
  
Close enough.

 

* * *

  
  
It only took a month to settle into the habit of shaving to remove any ounces that he was ever anything better than dirt. Seven liked to run his hands along hair that had begun to grow out. The chin length lended it easier to yank. Nine grew more enthusiastic with choking; nothing more than a pathetic variant of the same. One waxed sentimental and grew out of the habit of bruises. Hans inferred that he was enamored by submission; plagued by the incessant weeping of his wife.  
  
 _Don’t touch me, ElevenTwelve. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. There’s nothing here. I tricked you. I’m sorry._  
  
"Mother loves you. She couldn’t say it."  
  
 _Don’t-_  
  
Twelve’s hands never lost warmth, even in the coldest winters. A fear settled under his ribs that he couldn’t begin to understand.  
  
"Mother knew. She was too frightened to touch you, because she feared her own safety if she tried to intervene. She doesn’t expect you to forgive her for such cowardice, but she said you deserved to know."  
  
 _If there was only someone-_  
  
In all twenty-four years of his life, Hans never recalled crying after the age of five. It ruined him. He couldn’t stop.  
  
—  
  
Nine and Elsa in the same room was akin to comparing a pile of shit to a sunset.  
  
"—- won’t win Queen Elsa over. I ruined his chances, and I doubt that offering my head would be enough to convince."  
  
 _Don’t._  
  
"——, the chains don’t hurt. Stop staring. At least they cover the rope burns."  
  
"You’re not taking this seriously."  
  
 _Twelve, no. Stop._  
  
"I want this. It’s fine."  
  
Were empty shells capable of anger?  
  
"For fuck’s sake, you’re crying over someone who attempted murder. Do you realize how idiotic that is?"  
  
Everyone laid themselves out like glass to him. Twelve longed to kiss him through the bars while the guards slumbered in wooden chairs. Their desires hung like signs on buildings; from the hunger of lust to hopeless pity.  
  
"You even wore a high collar to hide the marks on your neck. Mother can never forgive herself. Hans, we can’t blame you. You were bound to come out damaged."  
  
If he bashed his head against the stone, maybe it won’t take long to bleed to death. The cell reeked of piss and a thick crust of grime, but Hans never felt cleaner in his life.  
  
 _If there was only someone-_  
  
"They ruined me and fucked me and smothered me since I was a child. I should have grown accustomed to it. I’m too weak. There’s worse things in this world. At least I was fed, in a beautiful castle. Never cold. Never hungry. Birds… horses… painting…"  
  
He never once thought that he deserved it.  
  
"I love you. ——, ——, Mom, we all love you."  
  
 _some_  
 _someone_  
 _someone who_  
  
"Ah…"

 

* * *

  
  
Eleven was too good to be true, and both sisters learned the value of suspicion. Elsa, not one to believe in selfless kindness, placed her hurricane love in a box to eavesdrop on Twelve. No man should forgive a beast so heartless, brother or not. A voice weak enough to pass as a flower attempting to speak, however, was the last thing they wanted to find.  
  
Anna clamped trembling fingers to stifle a stream of whimpers.  
  
Elsa never felt more filthy.  
  
"It doesn’t hurt, Kuan-yin. I’m glad. I want this. Thank you."  
  
Hans had long found a small knife under the layers of dirt. Somehow, Anna knew, so she ran before her sister could stop her, just in time to see the blade lodged cleanly in a neck littered with rope marks. Kuan-yin dropped to his knees, as though begging for forgiveness.  
  
"If only there was someone out there…"  
  
The younger sister couldn’t bear to finish her sentence. Elsa counted her blessings, unable to tear her eyes away from Kuan-yin and Huang-fu cradling their dead brother in unconditional arms.  
  
After spending almost all her life pushing her sister away, guilt sat comfortably in her heart like a stone. She deserved it.


End file.
